


Terrified

by NatTheDestroyer48



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anxiety, Domestic Fluff, F/M, First Love, Fluff and Smut, Hux and Kylo are both idiots, Hux is secretly a hopeless romantic, Hux's father was abusive, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, eventually smut, they both love poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:38:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatTheDestroyer48/pseuds/NatTheDestroyer48
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If someone had ever told him that he would fall in love (and, in turn, the one he loved would share that affection for him), Brendol Hux Jr. would have scoffed, laughed in their face even. Love was something that had been a myth to Hux, a fairy tale that parents told their starry-eyed brats at night. It wasn’t a reality for him, and he wanted to keep it that way. The young man was entirely comfortable with being alone; in fact, he believed that in his own isolation, he thrived. </p>
<p>But, of course, what is life without the occasional earth shattering change? And, in this case, it was a change that Hux couldn’t have possibly seen coming. </p>
<p>(Basically I'm horrible at introductions XD the song "Terrified" by Anna Ternheim inspired this fic. I recommend listening to it while you read! I'm going to try to post a new chapter every Saturday or so. Let me know what you guys think. Any criticism or comments are welcome! Let me know too if there's any errors X3 thanks guys so much!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No one I'll rather be with than you

     If someone had ever told him that he would fall in love (and, in turn, the one he loved would share that affection for him), Brendol Hux Jr. would have scoffed, laughed in their face even. Love was something that had been a myth to Hux, a fairytale that parents told their starry-eyed brats at night. It wasn’t a reality for him, and he wanted to keep it that way. The young man was entirely comfortable with being alone; in fact, he believed that in his own isolation, he thrived.

_But, of course, what is life without the occasional earth shattering change? And, in this case, it was a change that Hux couldn’t have possibly seen coming._

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

**Chapter 1: No one I'll rather be with than you**

     Brendol Hux Jr. had, since his earliest memories, adored the arts, especially the written word. When he was a young child, Hux had obsessively hoarded any form of literature he could get his hands on, to the absolute and total disgust of his father. Brendol Hux Sr. was a calculating, cold man, and occasional father, who demanded extreme perfection and respect from his son. In time, and after many forceful and sometimes violent reprimands from his father, Hux buried his passions deep inside, and strived to become the man that was expected of him.

     Brendol Hux Sr., at a very early age in the business world, created his own very successful corporate business, the First Order, from the ground up. He was known for his iron will, ruthless business tactics, and cold disposition towards those he viewed as “inferior.” Naturally, as soon as his first and only heir was born, the corporate business man expected him to uphold the Hux family name, in both manner and prestige.

     And so, as was expected, Hux worked diligently to prove his worth and honor his family name, but, even then, his cold father never once acknowledged his son’s diligent work. Yet Hux never once despised or spoke ill towards Hux Sr., nor went against his wishes, even going as far as to destroy his own well-treasured novels of poetry. Hux both respected and feared the man, even when he was treated with severe cruelty and malevolence.

     During his grade school years, Hux was taught by the most well-respected and expensive tutors in the country (his father felt no public nor private school was adequate enough). Because of this, the young ginger lived in what an ordinary person would consider supreme isolation from his peers, and was not permitted to speak to anyone his own age ( _“They are beneath the Hux name,” his father frequently claimed._ ) The only individuals Hux Jr. ever conversed with were his tutors and the infrequent corporate executives that would attend dinners with his father. The younger Hux, during the latter interactions, was expected to be polite and courteous at all times, and any slight mistake would be harshly reprimanded. He was rigorously schooled in the art of polite, professional conversation, and he was to practice for hours on end with his harsh father until Hux was “satisfactory.”

     At age 31, long after his father died and passed on his CEO title to his son, Hux Jr. still maintained the demeanor Brendol Hux Sr. had, in a way, drilled into him. Hux became, very proudly to himself, exceedingly successful in the position, and his subordinates and business peers alike both highly respected and feared him. Brendol Hux Jr.’s life, up to this point, has revolved exclusively around his work, and he prided himself in that.

     He did have a secret pleasure, however. Just down the street from the First Order corporate headquarters where Hux worked on a daily basis, there is a small, quaint coffee shop that he enjoyed visiting when he had free time or took short work breaks, which were both far and in between.

     Hux would choose the exact same drink order: a small double-shot espresso with one pump peppermint. Mostly when he visited, which, again, was rare, he would sit in one of the large, creaky armchairs in the very back of the humble establishment, and skim over the sporadic newspaper or magazine left behind by an earlier patron. Today, however, was radically different.

     The young CEO, leaving First Order corporate headquarters to take a rare break after a seemingly average work meeting, checked his watch.

‘3:00 pm,’ Hux read to himself, ‘I’ll order my drink at precisely 3:05 pm, it’ll be ready by 3:08 pm, giving me approximately twelve minutes to finish it. Then, at 3:21 pm, I will walk back to my office.’ Nodding to himself, seeming to agree with his own calculations, continued on his way. Being this incredibly specific and precise always gave Hux Jr. a great deal of comfort, as he felt it gave him constant control.

     Entering the small shop, he quickly scanned inside to check that everything was in order and in its proper place, as the CEO did at every visit. However, the young man automatically noticed something, or someone in this case, was dramatically off: a man was sitting in his regular spot.

     Now, because Hux did not frequently go to this establishment, he normally would have brushed it off and simply would have chosen a different armchair. But, in this situation, the man, who looked horribly uncouth to begin with, had placed his cringe worthy ratty backpack in the only other unoccupied armchair. Internally irritated, the corporate business man orders his normal espresso in his calm, professional tone, and waits for his order.

     As he waits, Hux coolly examines the man, whose offending backpack has now forced the businessman to take drastic measures, from across the café. The man in question, who honestly does not look much older than himself in Hux’s opinion, greatly stood out from the other common customers due to the sheer amount of black he had on. From the decidedly shabby beanie he wore, to the tacky Converse shoes on his feet, the young man was all one cohesive, abhorrent shade of obsidian. He was writing, rather furiously, in a thick, leather bound black notebook that clearly had seen better days. The man looked almost uncomfortable in the way he leaned over the notebook, completely absorbed in whatever he was transcribing. But what really bothered Hux was that it appeared as though the writer had not ordered anything, as there were neither cups nor pastry bags in the man’s vicinity.

     Hux, much to his own horror, had been studying this odd man to such a degree that he did not hear the clearly agitated barista call his name. With an embarrassed half-nod, the young man politely took his drink and made his way over to the chair in question.

     Steeling his resolve, and keeping his voice calm and collected per usual, Hux Jr. addressed the man who had yet to acknowledge the businessman’s presence:

“Excuse me sir, would you kindly move your backpack? This is the last armchair left, and I would like to sit here.”

     Without pausing his scribbling, and without even looking up from his notebook, the obviously disturbed man replied with an uninterested:

“No.”

The young CEO, at first, thought he had misheard the man’s reply.

“Excuse me?”

The man’s eyebrows still furrowed in concentration, sighed in frustration, and repeated, more forcefully this time:

“I said no. Are you deaf?”

     Now, Hux prided himself on being able to keep a controlled head during confrontations like this, but, in this case for reasons currently unexplainable to him, his control over his irritation was unusually beginning to slip.

‘How dare he speak to me in that fashion! He hasn’t even bothered to look at me. Who the hell does he think he is?!’

    Without hesitation, and with purpose, Hux grabs the falling apart backpack and, with more force than was probably necessary, slams it on the table behind him, elegantly sitting down on the now empty armchair with crossed legs. Though not staring directly at him, the CEO observed, to his amusement, the young man noticeably stiffen, finally cease his insufferable writing, and lift his head. Finally acknowledging the businessman with an intense glare that inwardly startled him from its pure heat and rage, the man slammed his notebook shut.

“Put it back.”

    The ginger haired CEO hesitated for a moment, a little in shock from the chaotic behavior of this stranger. He had never encountered a man quite so obviously unstable, and, again, for reasons unexplainable, a tiny shiver ran up Hux’s spine. Pushing away this strange feeling, and with a cold sneer, Hux condescendingly replies:

“No. This armchair is for sitting, not for your disgustingly dirty bag. Besides, you clearly are not a paying customer, and thus have no right to be in this establishment.”

    If it was even possible, the anger practically pouring off the unhinged young man thickened from Hux’s reply, practically choking its target, and his glare grew murderous. The corporate man had to physically stop himself from gasping aloud at the sensation. However, it was from an emotion that clearly wasn’t fear; Hux Jr. had been at times fearful of his father, but it had never made him physically react. Whatever this bodily reaction was, the ginger man had no way to identify it. He had never felt it before.

     In a rage, ‘Like an overgrown child,’ Hux thought, the chaotic man hurled his notebook into his bag, stood up with a loud huff, and stomped his way out the door, catching the attention of every other patron there. The dark and all but chaotic atmosphere of the now gone young man left with him. As soon as the energy dissipated, the CEO took a shaky, deep breath.

‘He’s taller than I thought,” Hux observed, catching his breath. He watched the ridiculous young man sprint his way down the street until his was out of view.

‘I wonder what he possibly could have been writing. What would a man like that write? Kill lists?’ The ginger man pondered this for a few more minutes, still utterly astonished at the childish and frankly violent reaction of the stranger. He sipped at his espresso that thankfully had not grown cold during the confrontation. Hux calmly checked his watch, ‘3:19 pm,’ and allowed himself to contemplate for a little while longer.

     The more the ginger CEO thought about the whole event and unnecessarily angry reaction of the man in all black, the more intrigued he became. No one had ever treated him that way, as an inferior, other than his father of course and, to Hux Jr.’s dismay, the thought was exhilarating.

     With a frustrated sigh, Hux willed himself to take another calming breath, and he again checked his watch: ‘3:21 pm. Still on schedule.’

     The ginger CEO smiled thinly to himself and, with an air of grace and complete control, stood straight, disposed of his now empty coffee cup, and exited the café, pushing thoughts of the turbulent young man who made his heart race far away.


	2. Never say the word but our eyes always do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux goes back and sees Kylo again, and awkwardness ensues... (*dramatic drumroll*)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this chapter early because I don't think I'll be able to post it on Saturday. Enjoy!

**Chapter 2: Never say the word but our eyes always do**

     Brendol Hux Jr. never scorned nor truly hated his father; on the contrary, he immensely respected him, and endeavored through his work and manner to be equal to him. The lessons Hux Sr. had taught his son, though rigid, propelled him towards a path of greatness that he had been destined for. However, there was an aspect of life that the elder had purposely lacked in instructing Hux Jr.: everyday conversation. The older man felt no need in doing so as he firmly believed all others, except those very high in the corporate world, were vastly inferior to the Hux family name, and that his heir had absolutely no business interacting with lesser beings. _‘Their stupidity is infectious,” his father commonly claimed in contempt, “Do not let their petty ideals and pathetic lives sway you. Live aloof above all others; that is the Hux family tradition and truth.”_ Thus, the younger Hux, to prove to his father  that he was worthy of his noble birth, even several years after Hux Sr.’s passing, lived by that ideal.

     Because of this, however, the ginger CEO had an exceptionally difficult time interacting with those outside of his work, though he very rarely tried to. In those scarce times when the man did attempt to speak to “outsiders,” as he referred to others besides his underlings, he often came off as being either too unfeeling or too condescending. This resulted in Hux being virtually friendless, with a nonexistent social life, causing the young businessman to throw his whole existence into his work.

     Hux, however, did not see any issue with this; he flourished in his made isolation, and almost to compensate for this inessential weakness, made up for it with his brilliant mind and outstanding leadership qualities. His underlings and equals alike equally admired and feared him, and the successful CEO wanted to keep it that way.

     Since the coffeeshop incident a few weeks ago, Hux Jr. threw himself even further into his work to insure he was busy at all times, and to make sure he did not think about the chaotic man. No unneeded thoughts about the unstable man, who’s out of control aura made him breathless, definitely not necessary in any way. His first meeting of the day, much to Hux’s disproval, had been cancelled, giving him literally nothing else to do or keep himself occupied until his later meeting that afternoon. The young CEO had labored so excessively that he had completed all important crucial work due in the next upcoming week, meaning the only tasks left undone were the occasional cleaning and reorganizing of his spacious personal office. But even those normally enjoyable tasks for the man held none of his attention or interest. The only thing that did, much to Hux’s chagrin, was the memory of the man in black that made him feel as no one else had before.

     Pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing in dissatisfaction, Hux internally debated both the pros and cons of going back to the modest establishment. The thought alone of seeing the young man who had haunted Hux Jr. for days again so soon gave him a wave of anxiety, and he wasn’t completely convinced of his own stability in the other man’s presence. The CEO most assuredly wasn’t prepared for another argument with the angry man; the last confrontation had nearly made Hux lose complete control of his body, and completely destroyed the steady collectiveness that the businessman had previously regarded as infallible. His own doubts towards himself did unquestionably nothing to ease his stress, and the young CEO, against his normal character, began to pace nervously. Catching himself doing this, Hux forces himself to come to a stop.

‘Control yourself. In the most likely scenario, he won’t even be there. What are the odds of him being there on the exact same day at the exact same time as you?’

     Surprisingly to Hux, the thought of not seeing the young man gave him a pang of what felt like disappointment deep in his chest. Ineffectively ignoring what he just felt, the ginger man decides.

‘To hell with it. Who cares if he’s there or not? I have every right to be there, as he does. If he is (his chest aches again, Hux yet again tries to ignore it), do not acknowledge him. Quit whining. What would Father think of your behavior?’

     Assuming his professional mask of confidence and authority, he runs through his standard goodbyes with his higher ups that he encounters on his way out of First Order headquarters, reminding them of the later meeting later that day. Finally, when all necessary exchanges are complete, Hux once again makes his way back to the humble café that has nearly been the center of his thoughts for the last weeks.

     Of course, as soon as he enters, his pale eyes fall directly on the unhinged young man he had been fixated on. At the sight, Hux instantly feels his mouth dry and his heart quicken, stamping out any intentions to be unaffected by the man’s sheer presence. He could not yet sense the man’s powerful aura, and dreads the moment that he does, unsure of what his own reaction will be. The CEO rushes to give his standard drink order to the cashier and, as he waits, outright stares at the dreary looking man, taking the sight of his embarrassing obsession in.

     The young man is sitting in the exact same spot as last time, but, to the ginger man’s astonishment, his decrepit backpack was placed on the floor to the man’s left. He was still wearing head to toe black; this time without the black beanie, revealing his longish dark curls.

‘He is going to have premature worry lines,’ Hux thought, amused, as he observed the sharp, almost fierce look on the man’s face as he again scratched into his notebook. ‘He must have back problems. There is no way a man of his stature could sit that way without developing one…’

     Lost in his thoughts, he once again misses his name being called for his drink, and again has to politely apologize to the disgruntled barista, who clearly wants to be anywhere but there.

     Hux briefly considers choosing a different place to sit today, but, to his own displeasure, the simple pondering of not being near the writer causes the ginger to momentarily grow anxious. With a measured breath, the businessman pushes down his nervousness and slowly makes his way towards the armchair and his source of distress. As soon as he enters the close vicinity of the gothic man, the young CEO senses the air pressure change, as if the unusual man’s mere presence thickens the atmosphere, and he automatically tenses. To almost prove to himself that he has control over the situation at hand, Hux, in a dignified and collected manner, sits down in the worn armchair and searches for something to occupy his time. His fixation, to the ginger’s annoyance, still has yet to acknowledge his existence.

‘Fine. Two can play at that game,’ Hux decided, and he tried his hardest not to grace the undeniably odd man with his glance.

     However, after less than five minutes of agonizing apprehension, Hux cannot resist the urge, and, against his better judgment, looks out of the corner of his eye at the intriguing stranger. 

     The man, the ginger decides, is good looking, in an unconventional way. Hux had never seen anyone quite like him before, and not just because of his strange attire. His skin, though rather pale, was dusted with dark freckles, reminding the CEO of stars standing out brightly in a clear night sky. His dark eyes seemed to match his hair perfectly, and the young businessman caught himself staring a little too intensely at the man’s pouty lips that were currently pursed in concentration. Hux couldn’t quite describe it; somehow the man was just unexplainably different. The man’s chaotic aura, which had kept his heart rate rising since Hux had sat down, made the businessman want to grab a handful of the writer’s hair and yank it back to catch his dark gaze.

     Realizing how absolutely illogical and frankly ridiculous that last thought was, Hux forces himself to look away from the alluring stranger down to his notebook, in which the man was scribbling away. Excitement filled the businessman when he saw what the young man was writing: poetry. And, from what Hux could read from his own awkward angle and the man’s crouching position, it was surprisingly good, excellent even. Trying to be as less obvious as possible, the ginger leaned a little bit closer to the man to get a better view. As he read along in the poem, that was both disturbingly depressing in theme (something about destruction and death, Hux concluded) and brilliant in form, Hux found himself actually enjoying watching the man write, both his energy and clear passion for his craft infectious. However, as the man continued seemingly unaware of his neighbor’s admittedly creepy behavior, the CEO caught an error that he rashly revealed aloud, before he could stop himself:

“You spelled deteriorate incorrectly.” Hux almost slapped himself for such a blunder.

     The poet slowed his writing, and almost as if he thought he had heard incorrectly, affirmed the CEO’s existence with an absolutely confused look, eyebrows still furrowed.

“What?”

     With a humiliated blush and stuttering breath, Hux answered hesitantly:

“You spelled deterioration incorrectly in the tenth line. You-You need to add an i after the first r.”

     The poet keeps staring at Hux with an unreadable emotion in his eyes for several long seconds, and the young ginger man braces himself for the fury of the man’s anger, adrenaline starting to pump through his body. But, to the businessman’s shock, the dreary young man just tilts his head to the side, as if he is considering the other. Finally, to the ginger man’s relief, the man glances down at the line and word in question, and makes a small humming sound. He moves his pencil up to correct his mistake, and mumbles out what suspiciously sounds like a quiet “thank you.”

     Though he knows the handsome stranger cannot see it as he’s focused back on his notebook, Hux nervously nods back to him, as if to say “you’re welcome.”

     They both sit this way for a while, the poet continuing to write, while Hux is too abashed to attempt to read more of the man’s work again, and is rigidly trying to look anywhere else. Suddenly, and unexplainably, the handsome stranger murmurs something else:

“Kylo Ren.”

Hux, still utterly humiliated from his rash actions earlier stammers out:

“E-Excuse me?”

This time it was the stranger’s turn to blush.

“Kylo Ren,” he repeats, “that’s my name.”

“Oh,” Hux replies, absolutely shocked that the poet-Kylo Ren- had given him his name. At a complete loss of how to respond to this, the CEO, at first, just blankly stares at the other for a few breaths. ‘Wonderful. He likely thinks me a fool,’ the young man lamented. Then, with the minuscule amount of control and self-respect that he had left, the ginger haired man answered, as calmly and collectively as he could manage:

“My name is Hux. I apologize for prying but you seemed so engrossed in your notebook that I grew curious.”

     Kylo Ren shrugged almost indifferently, his attention back to his writing.

     After an awkward silence enveloped the two men, Hux could no longer endure the embarrassment, practically sucked down his now lukewarm espresso and abruptly stood to leave. On his way out the door, he spared himself one last glance back at this ‘Kylo Ren’ and was stunned to see that the poet looked almost disappointed to see the other go, as he had sunken lower into his armchair with a deep pout on his face, from concentration or otherwise.

     The businessman almost chuckled at the sight, the position seeming ridiculous for a man of Kylo Ren’s stature, but willed himself to keep it inward. However, to Hux’s alarm, before he had the chance to turn back towards the door, the dreary poet’s dark eyes flicked up from his notebook and locked with the CEO’s pale blues.

     The shocking intensity, not just from anger and chaos like previously, but also from a pure heat that the ginger had yet to place, had the successful young man frozen in place. The CEO again, for the second time in his life, felt his control slip out from under him and he nearly gasped aloud from the strange sensation of exhilaration filling his body. He couldn’t physically take his eyes away from the poet’s even if he wanted to; the chaotic energy seemed to wrap itself around Hux tightly, holding him in place, making the ginger haired man shake. The corner of Kylo Ren’s mouth twitched upward for a split second, before his attention was once again to his poetry, and the moment was lost.

      Utterly embarrassed for the second time in less than ten minutes, Hux spun on his heels and fast walked out of that café as quick as was publically acceptable. What troubled the young ginger man more than the extreme humiliation was his inability to properly control himself around the mysterious ‘Kylo Ren.’ Whatever this connection he had with the man, whether it be simple fascination or intimidation (he will not consider anything deeper than that), ‘This “situation,”’ Hux thought, ‘needs to be corrected immediately.’

     But, of course, desperately trying not to think about Kylo Ren’s intense eyes and aura does the exact opposite, and the young CEO is distracted for the rest of his day and in his afternoon meeting, definitely not daydreaming about Ren’s dark curls, his pouty lips.


	3. My head explodes and my mind's a mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux confronts Kylo and finally gets to see what he's been writing...*dun dun duuun*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter you guys! I hope you enjoy it

**Chapter 3: My head explodes and my mind’s a mess**

     Brendol Hux Jr. was aware that he was good looking, far above the average even. He was his father’s son after all. He had the former CEO’s bright, ginger hair and sharp, cerulean eyes, a Hux family trait. Hux was not a broad man, though he made up for his slight frame with his height, most certainly taller than the average man. This fact was rather effective in terms of persuasion, and the young businessman used his height to his advantage.

     The young CEO rather enjoyed wearing bulkier clothing, such as thick suits and long coats, to further disguise his thin frame, and any clothing less than designer in brand would simply not do. His suits were custom ordered and created by the finest tailors in the world, and Hux had them steam washed and ironed to perfection every week. Though the cost would be considered enormous by “lesser people,” the successful businessman viewed his dress as a representation of his achievements, and thus, naturally the price meant nothing to him. But, because of this the younger Hux had little to no casual clothing, as the mere thought of wearing a simple t-shirt and pair of jeans felt too “boorish” for a man of a his prestige. However, on the absolutely rare days that the CEO takes a day off (he has only taken two days off his entire career due to a common cold as he was advised), he sometimes wears a classic, long-sleeved turtleneck sweater and slacks (all in shades of grey, black, and brown mind you), but even then, Hux feels uncomfortable.

     The ginger businessman puts as much control into his attire as he does his personal appearance. Every morning (4:30 am sharp), Hux Jr. begins his morning routine. No hair must ever be out of place. Nothing in his character, for that matter, can be out of place. _“The day a man loses his perfection, the day his empire comes crashing down,” his father declared, “Do well to remember that, my heir.”_ Hux felt a great comfort thus in having both an impeccable vestment and manner: his control, over himself and his underlings, was his ultimate weapon.  

     The young ginger man had never seen a picture of his mother before; his father had at no time felt the need to show his son. She was a means to an end, and Hux seldom lingered on that fact. Though occasionally, against his father’s teachings, the CEO found himself thinking about her: who she was, what she looked like, and, most importantly, if she would have been proud of the man her son had become.

     That morning was not one of those uncommon moments, however; it was just like every other early morning, in both routine and thought. But one aspect was unconsciously different: Hux was taking even more care in his appearance than was strictly necessary for work. In fact, the man caught himself nearly showering twice, as if to cleanse him of some unknown ailment. In this case, though, Hux Jr. knew what this “sickness” was. His mind was wandering, and he could not focus on the task as he normally would.

‘It’s that damn Kylo Ren,’ Hux thought irritably, ‘He’s done this to me. I’ve nearly lost my edge.’

     Staring at himself intensely in the mirror, Hux forces himself to take a count, as he regularly does, of every freckle and facial imperfection he could see. He took account of the minuscule scars and light freckles that the average person would not notice, but, of course, the young CEO was not your “common individual.” If it was socially acceptable for a man of his rank, the successful business man would have used liquid foundation makeup to cover his “weaknesses,” as he called them, but such things were not proper.

     ‘No more gained. Excellent.’    

     Hux smiled to himself, or, in this case, attempted to smile. His thin often times cold smiles never seemed to reach his eyes, another unnecessary lesson his father had not bothered to pass on to his son. To be frank, the younger CEO had never smiled truly at anyone, and often times his “smiles” were malevolent in nature, more smirks than grins.

     After this crucial step complete, Hux carefully gels his hair to the upmost perfection, and dons on one of his typical black suits and overcoats. Forgoing breakfast as usual, he glanced at himself one more time to be absolutely certain, and headed towards the First Order headquarters, his proud father’s crowning achievement.

     And, just to the ginger CEO’s luck and displeasure, his usual morning meeting with his higher-up underlings was yet again cancelled, an extremely rare occurrence that had been much too frequent (though only twice) for the man’s comfort.

‘I really must have a word with my subordinates. This can no longer be tolerated.’ Hux, pinching the bridge of his nose (he really must be careful of developing wrinkles), yet again having nothing to do till the late afternoon. What really annoyed the young businessman, however, was the flutter of his nerves when a skittish employee informed him of the cancellation. Hux knew the exact source, of course, but did not understand the reason. He grew even more irritated at the thought of seeing the dreary young man again.

‘Why must I do this to myself? I have a damn company to run, not a soap opera.’

     For a time, the successful corporate leader attempted to reorganize his personal office for what felt like the billionth time, but it did not capture his full attention, nor calmed his heart. His mind kept shifting back to those fathomless, heat-filled eyes, that breathtakingly handsome face. The CEO, out of pure frustration and a little bit of rage, slammed his hands down on his desk hard enough to nearly break the wood and was practically shaking in anger.

‘This ends now. I will cut off whatever this ‘connection’ is. My control and pride cannot take any more blows.’

     In a rage (which was horribly out of character for the CEO), he stormed his way out of his office, effectively scaring his subordinates half out of their wits and caused his higher-ups to turn their heads. After what seemed like an eternity to the ginger, and for the third time that month, he entered the quaint coffeeshop.

     Not to the CEO’s surprise at all, the source of his butterflies was again sitting in his normal armchair in the back, writing even more furiously into his notebook (which Hux honesty did not understand how it was still in one piece). Hux didn’t even bother ordering anything his time, too focused in his anger at the task at hand. With more energy than was strictly professional for the ginger man, he stopped in front of Kylo Ren’s chair and shot a glare down at him that would have made any other person flinch. But, as the young CEO was beginning to realize, Kylo was not an “average man.” Even though Hux could feel the man’s intoxicating aura start to affect him, he forces himself to nearly shout:

“Look, ‘Kylo Ren’, I don’t know what you’re trying to-”

“Hello.” Kylo Ren abruptly, and quite rudely, interrupts, continuing to write, eyebrows creased.

   Hux blinked, absolutely shocked that the man had the audacity to interrupt him. A little more forcibly this time:

“Hello. As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, I do not under-”

“Do you need something? I’m busy.” The dreary man again cuts in, to Hux’s astonishment. The man clearly did not understand social cues, and if he did he seemed not to give a damn. The CEO’s anger swelled. 'Who the fuck does he think he is?!'

"Would you just let me-!"

     Kylo Ren suddenly ceased writing, causing Hux to freeze mid sentence. The dark young man looked up at the CEO with a look of annoyance and an emotion that, once again, he could not quite place, his pencil (which was the exact same shade of impossible black) still at the spot he had paused.

“Hux. I’m almost done with this poem. Give me a damn minute and I will let you tell me what you seem to ‘not understand.’ I have something to show you anyways.’ The poet’s voice, though nearly a murmur is deeper than the CEO expected, and, to the ginger’s embarrassment, a wave of warmth spreads down through his own chest when he heard the man say his name. Hux was a little touched by the fact that the dreary man had even bothered to remember the businessman’s name, yet alone use it in conversation.

     His temper seemingly quenched, and now replaced with slight annoyance, the ginger man stiffly nods at Kylo Ren, and reluctantly takes a seat in his own armchair.

“Fine. But make it quick. I don’t have all day,” Hux grumbles.

      The man makes a sound of acknowledgement; he already back to his writing, which was nearly illegible, from Hux’s perspective at least, at this point.

‘What does he have to show me,’ the ginger CEO irritably pondered, ‘and why the hell did I just let him talk down to me that way, as if I were the inferior?’ Hux was somewhat in a warm haze, still astonished by his own name coming from the young man’s lips. ‘This shouldn’t excite me this much. Why does it matter if he remembers your name? He still clearly despises you.’ Still, the thought of whatever this ‘Kylo Ren’ had to show him had the successful businessman nervous with anticipation.

‘What kind of name is ‘Kylo Ren’ anyway? That can’t possibly be his real name. It must be a stage name or something of the like…’ With nothing else to do but anxiously wait, as the magazines and newspapers located on the coffee table could not have possibly held his attention, Hux began to examine the one man who had ever dared to interrupt him besides his father. The clothes that the poet was wearing that day, as black and as uncouth as the last time they had seen each other seemed to rather suit him in Hux’s opinion. The ripped skinny jeans that he wore well contrasted his long-sleeved, baggy sweater that had far too many holes. His Converse, which appeared as though were painted (‘What a surprise,’ Hux thought snidely), had been well-worn, and the ginger could see a gapingly large hole in one of the soles.

     The man’s nails were painted black, and, from what Hux could tell visibly, Kylo Ren regularly chewed them.

‘He really is a child then,’ the CEO inwardly smirked, examining his own nails, that were, naturally, perfect. Secretly though, the ginger man rather liked the man’s painted nails.

     After ten more minutes of agonizing waiting, Kylo Ren finally stilled his hand. He looked up at Hux, once again immobilizing the other with his mesmerizing gaze, and unexpectedly dropped his leather bound black notebook into Hux’s lap.

“Read it.” The poet said simply, in that deep voice of his, still barely keeping his voice above a whisper. The corporate man, yet again caught unaware, visibly stiffened, and kept his eyes locked on Kylo Ren’s, unable to take his gaze away.

“And why on Earth would I do that?” Hux had not a damn clue on how he should behave in this situation, internally panicking. He wanted to yell in frustration. ‘How is this man so unpredictable?!’

     The dark man flushed dark crimson at the other man’s comment, from a clear mix of anger and embarrassment. To the ginger’s horror, he began to feel the atmosphere around them grow denser, as if the man’s growing anger was starting to slowly suffocate him, as it nearly had the day he had first met the chaotic poet.

“Just-Just do it. Tell me if you see any mistakes. Since you caught one the last time.” That last sentence almost seemed like an excuse to the young CEO.

‘He doesn’t have a real reason for me to read it. He just wants me to see his work…”

     Hux very carefully considers his answer for a moment, unsure of how Kylo Ren will react, and then, with an annoyed sigh (that he must certainly forced, he really did want to read this man’s poetry), his nods.

“Fine. This had better not be a waste of my time. I’m a busy man.”

“It won’t be.” The young poet began twirling his pencil between his fingers in a seemingly nervous fashion, as if he was unsure of what to do with his hands, which, Hux now noticed, were incredibly large. The young ginger imagined those hands slowly sliding up his thighs, taking a tight hold on his hips….

     Alarmed that he was thinking about the man’s hands in that deplorable and frankly creepy manner, and that a shiver of what he could only describe as pure want went straight up his spine, the CEO forced himself to look away from the poet, hoping silently that the other hadn’t noticed the wave of arousal in his eyes. Looking down at the notebook in question, Hux pursed his lips, flips open the falling apart cover, and begins reading.

     What the successful CEO immediately notices is just how excessively dark and depressing Kylo Ren’s work is. This man’s creative muse could rival that of Edger Allan Poe, and Hux is surprisingly swept away by the repeated, disturbing themes of death and revenge (further proving the man’s obvious psychosis) that, in the ginger’s opinion, seem to be directed towards a person or several people from the way that the poet writes. The chaotic, shadowy energy, the rage that practically seeps out the written words, makes the ginger man physically shiver from its sheer power. Hux Jr. is completely and utterly captivated; no poetry, even pieces written by the literary masters of centuries long past, has ever quite affected the young CEO like this before.

‘This man, this “Kylo Ren”….is absolutely brilliant.’ The ginger man wasn’t expecting the unpredictable other to be this good, even from the small snippet he had read earlier that month. ‘A clearly disturbed man…but a literary genius none-the-less.’

     As he continued to examine the poet’s work, intensely (and secretly) savoring each and every line, Hux felt Kylo Ren’s piercing stare boring into his person, almost as though he was expecting the other to say something negative or off-putting about his work. Though the CEO privately, to his own disgruntlement, reveled in the intense man’s eyes on him.

‘He must be a fool to think I could ever say anything adverse about these near masterpieces,’ Hux thought, amused, ‘but I won’t boost his ego more than necessary.’

The corporate leader, trying to sound as detached as he could manage, commented with a shrug, “It’s good.”

Kylo Ren, sounding as though he didn’t understand what the other man said, replied with an equally simple, yet confused: “What?”

    Hux sighed, annoyed at the man’s inability to listen, looked up from the notebook he had been profoundly enjoying, and fixed Kylo Ren with a gaze that (he hoped) came off as indifferent.

“Your writing. It’s good. Your themes, though rather bleak, are intriguing. I will keep searching for errors that I can correct.’

     If it was even possible, the man’s ambience seemed to further intensify and grow in reach from Hux’s comments, and it settled down on the ginger like a strangely comfortable weight. As the CEO had predicted, the poet looked incredibly shocked to hear such compliments from the other, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape (to the ginger’s amusement). Kylo Ren, clearly unable to come up with a proper response, just curtly nods his head, and continues his frankly uncomfortable, yet intoxicating, staring that the businessman forces himself not to react physically to.

     Back to reading, Hux doesn’t feel the time pass by, fully engrossed in the poetry before him. Every now and then, the ginger CEO would catch a small error or two, mostly spelling, and without asking of course, would take the man’s pencil and circle the individual errors, adding notes in the margin on how to fix them.

     When the businessman disappointedly reaches the supposed end of Kylo Ren’s writing, however, he notices something rather odd. In the dreary man’s final poem, the mood the poet forms with his written words is noticeably different: the theme is seemingly lighter. From what the educated corporate man can gather, a nameless speaker (or Kylo Ren himself) is speaking of another person that they have begun to secretly care for, and the confusion that they themselves feel over these hidden feelings. They also seem to be unsure if they should keep this other unknown person in their lives, and if the attention that they are giving this person is being reciprocated by the other. This poem clearly stands out from the others, but its own significance is a mystery to Hux. ‘Is this Kylo Ren speaking, or just simply a character meant to represent a theme?’

At the next thought, the ginger’s chest tightened uncomfortably, ‘Does he have a lover?’

The CEO nearly shakes his head in disbelief in his own behavior. ‘What does it matter if he does? It’s none of your business. And even if he didn’t, he clearly isn’t interested in you, and you aren’t interested in him.’ The last addition was more of an assurance than fact; Hux could accept that to be true. In the young man’s mind, there was only one last action to be taken, and though extremely rash, he seemed to for the first time in his life not give a damn.

     Armed with his ill-advised confidence, Hux scribbled down a set of numbers on the top of the last written page, quickly shut the bound notebook, and handed it back to its rightful owner.

Kylo Ren, confused yet again by the ginger man’s behavior, asked him with furrowed brows, “What did you just write down?”

Hux, with a flustered blush that rivaled the color of his hair, stammered, “My number.”

     Before he could see the man’s reaction, Hux hurriedly exited the small café, feeling the man’s dark influence leave his body, not looking back.

* * *

 

Less than an hour later, to Hux’s secret euphoria, he received a simple text, reading _Hello_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr user is iheartyuu2! Check it out if you're into nerdy stuff and randomness XP look out for the next Chapter next Saturday!


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